


Playing The Master

by freddiejoey



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:02:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddiejoey/pseuds/freddiejoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rowena isn't happy.......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing The Master

“Why can’t women be less complicated, more straightforward like we men my heart?” Arthur sighs and rolls over, presenting his lean naked arse to Kai. “I think you’ll have to clean this deeper for me……….your appreciation is still sticking my cheeks together.” Kai grins wickedly. “I can think of something better than a boring old rag little brother……..” and gleefully writhes his hot wet tongue.

 

Which leads to quite a lot more whimpering and moaning and rapturous noises in the hiding place down beside the river before Arthur’s question concerning female complexities is finally provided with a reply.

 

Although Kai is quite confident enough to answer Arthur’s query with another query, since he already knows the appropriate response anyway. “Rowena in a spat again?” (He is also polite enough to refrain from pointing out that Arthur is actually one of the most complicated creatures in existence, despite the delicious presence of that huge juicy cock, sheltering in its nest of thick raven curls - a cock that he has just joyfully milked to fruition.)

Stroking his chin thoughtfully, Kai narrows his eyes. (If he was being brutally honest, he could mention that it is probably not what his little brother is doing which is enraging Rowena – rather it is what Arthur isn’t or more precisely not often enough for her liking. Although she does have some justification, being married less than half a year. Moreover, she is far too proud to ever reveal the true cause of her vexation to Arthur.)

“Well, my love, I think you should try being all masterly and high-handed, instead of placating. Imagine, for instance, that you’re Llud and you’ve just discovered Rolf plundering another one of Hereward’s food trains.” Fastening his belt around his breeches, Arthur bursts out laughing. “My Kai, that vision is too terrible to contemplate………especially Rolf stripped bare, grovelling penitently at our father’s feet.”

“Look.” A sudden inspiration strikes Kai. “You’re going to Tarn’s tomorrow to fetch those salt supplies that he’s traded from across the Channel. Don’t take Tugram. Take Rowena. Leave a bit later, giving you two romantic nights camping beneath the stars. Be a bit domineering and then let nature take its course. Women love being bossed now and then if it all ends in passion.”

Still, Arthur looks wary. “I don’t know……..She might get in a worse temper and start slapping. I don’t really want to arrive at Tarn’s village with a red welt across my face.” Kai leans forward, gently kisses Arthur’s ripe mouth. “Trust me beloved……..When have I ever given you bad advice about women? Anyway, it’s me who’s in danger of a good slapping. I promised Llud that I’d help him mend the thatching on the weapons hut and instead I’ve spent the afternoon skulking here with you.” Arthur smiles against his lips. “Skulking? Is that what we call it now my heart?” And his warm tongue entwines around Kai’s……….

 

“But I don’t want to ride to Tarn’s encampment and bring home salt. Weren’t you taking Tugram?” Rowena lowers six-month-old Theo back into his basket and stands, hands on hips, looking highly annoyed. Arthur gives a stiff little smile. “Well, I’m afraid I need Tugram here to help Llud with the thatching and besides, you can lead a pack pony as well as any man. You’re going. We can leave tomorrow at midday.” And he strides outside before she has the chance to protest further.

Beside the longhouse fire Lenni continues to quietly stir the venison stew. In fact, even were she able to speak she would say nothing. She can clearly see Kai’s hand in here somewhere and it makes her smile to herself. Rowena flounces back to the table and starts sawing at a loaf of bread with affronted savagery. “Bossy bloody thing…..just because he’s the bloody chieftain……..”

 

Lenni turns her back so Rowena won’t see her laugh. A healer she may be, but she doesn’t need any special restorative skills to work out what is ailing Rowena and making her crotchety. If asked, woman to woman, she would answer that, in her opinion, Rowena is simply in desperate need of a very good fuck…….

 

Arthur is tempted to tell Rowena once again that her face will set forever in its scowl, so much does she glower for the rest of the night and most of the next morning. But she is there, furrowed brow and all, ready to depart at noon. In keeping with Kai’s instructions, Arthur maintains his lordly demeanour and sternly hands her the pack pony’s reins. Kai waves them off, chuckling – then grimaces himself as he feels Llud’s silver hand on his shoulder, determinedly reclaiming him. Surely nothing in the world can be duller than stripping down old, dry and musty layers of thatch……..?

 

At least, muses Arthur, Tugram would have been lively company. Tugram’s problem is knowing when to be silent while Rowena’s is precisely the opposite at the moment. She rides along not saying a word – a situation that hardly changes when they stop to camp for the night. Albeit when he starts to set up the cauldron over the fire, she does deign to snap, “Women’s work, remember?” and the resulting concoction of pork and leeks is surprisingly tasty. Mmmm…….perhaps…..

 

But sadly no. The thaw – if indeed it can be termed that –is tantalisingly brief. A quick trip to the river to rinse their dirty wooden bowls. A quick duck into the undergrowth to deal with nature’s call - and Rowena wraps herself tightly in a blanket on the opposite side of the fire to where Arthur has spread his sheepskins. He thinks that she might fling “Good night” quickly over one shoulder……..or perhaps she is just grunting because the ground is rather hard.

 

Lying down, Arthur reflects that perhaps for once Kai is misguided in his advice about how to best handle women. Though always before his big brother has been unerringly right. Simply that this being masterful business does not seem to be working thus far with Rowena.

 

He’s awakened soon after dawn by a bowl of bread and cheese being thrust forcefully at him. “Here, eat this so we can hurry up and reach Tarn’s. I want to go home. Where everyone isn't so bossy.” At least, she’s happy enough in the longhouse. Lenni and Rowena are as thick as thieves and Kai makes her laugh every day; Llud and Rowena adore each other and she is besotted with Kai’s little Theo . Only he, Arthur, seems to so often irk her. Sighing, Arthur wolfs down the food and goes to relieve himself in the undergrowth. Perhaps Kai will have some other more efficacious ideas to offer later.

 

They ride into Tarn’s village in time for the midday meal. Strictly speaking, the encampment still belongs to his grandfather Athel – but Athel has long lost his wits as well as his sight and is now bed-ridden. Arthur likes young Tarn - a good steady leader and a fine warrior. Morcant’s treachery has not been allowed to take root again. Tarn’s village is well-defended and his advisors are trustworthy men.

 

Proudly Tarn hands over the precious sacks of salt. He is going to organise a regular arrangement with the trader. Salt being so prized for its preservative qualities. And this is excellent value, all the way from the land of the Sabines.

 

The sun is still high above the trees when they set out for home. Rowena has been affable enough with Tarn and kindly to Athel who, in his addled state, thinks that she is her mother Catrin. Yet she becomes habitually taciturn once more as they canter along westwards. How could Kai have gotten it so askew this time…….?

 

Dried venison provided by Tarn for supper, aromatically flavoured after being hung over burning woodchips in his smokehouse. Then further silence…….so obviously sleep is warranted. It will be a relief to gain the refuge of the longhouse’s noise and liveliness again.

 

Stamping off into the bushes, Arthur furiously pisses, yanks his cock fiercely a few times, realises that he is not the slightest bit weary. Another tedious night ahead. Maybe he can lie awake drafting a long-term trading agreement with Tarn in his head.

 

Soundlessly he approaches the fire – and then stops abruptly a few feet away, peering through the darkness yet still concealed by the undergrowth. Because he has suddenly realised what he is looking at, what Rowena is doing, stretched out on her blanket. Plainly she thinks that he is occupied elsewhere since she is pleasuring herself………

Slowly, sensually, Rowena squeezes her willowy thighs together, breeches pulled down to her knees, tunic pulled up to her neck. As he watches she begins to stroke a soft ripe breast with one hand and tease her twat with the other. Already Rowena’s pink nipples are hard and her honey pot wet and glistening. Arthur feels himself growing rigid…….notices that Rowena’s fingers are trembling…….

 

She slips one finger, then a second inside her hot lower lips, starting to rub, at first, light and gentle, then fast and fiery. Gasping and making little sounds of passion.

 

All at once, Rowena’s fingers slide in deep and she opens her twat wide. Withdrawing her hand quickly to lick off her own warm juices and plunging back inside, letting out a lingering moan.

Now Arthur can smell the musky fragrance of her arousal, as she thrusts wildly, her hips and hands enthralled by an urgent frantic rhythm. Panting, sweating, grunting one word low in her throat that he can’t quite catch…….then, without warning does…….his name………murmured softly………..Arthur…………

Oh fuck this………. Masterful is as masterful does………..

Taking a deep breath, prick grandiosely barbing his breeches, he strides back beside the fire. Rowena looks up, blue-grey eyes startled, shocked beyond action – yet somehow hypnotized by Arthur’s intense gaze, the way his handsome face is so eloquent with naked desire.

“Don’t say anything. Don’t even think about moving.” His voice is quiet and emphatic, his eyes utterly mesmerizing, the midnight blue almost liquid in its clarity.

Languidly he roams a caressing hand over her body, sweeping past one swollen nipple that stiffens further in response, fondling the smooth skin of her thighs, grazing gently over her mound. Rowena feels her cheeks burning, a flush of heat flaming between her legs.

“You’re beautiful Rowena………perhaps I don’t tell you often enough…….but I’m telling you now.”

He brings his fingers back to Rowena’s flat stomach, trailing them tenderly across her quivering flesh, lowering his face to hers so he can delicately inhale her skin’s sweet scent.

Smiling, Arthur moves on top of her, his hands holding her arms high above her head, pinning Rowena to the blanket. She tries to say something but…….. “Shut up Rowena. I thought you enjoyed silence.” His mouth is suddenly at hers, savagely brushing her lips, his kisses becoming increasingly fervent. Pressed against her hip, Arthur’s throbbing length swells and grinds.

Ravening at her neck, wet tongue searing across her throat, hot breath scorching her skin. That wily tongue flicks over her still blossoming nipple and Rowena whimpers, arrows of pleasure arching up through every sinew.

Feverishly she tears at Arthur’s breeches, freeing his huge aching cock, rippling her moist tongue along the underside of his rampant shaft. Voraciously parting her lips she envelopes him in her mouth, tasting the salty pearls of his fervour, hearing him moan euphorically.

Placing one hand at the root of Arthur’s massive plum-coloured prick, Rowena starts moving it up and down his length in time with her greedy sucking. Her other hand tightly cups his tingling balls, palming and kneading. Arthur’s eyes begin to close, his breathing becoming tattered………

 

Then those beautiful blue eyes fly open and he grins at her gleefully. “Yorath was right all along……..the honey of a viper-tongued shrew……..” Carefully he eases from her mouth, reverentially spreading her legs apart.

Without touching it, Arthur blows whispers on her twat. Rowena shudders violently, throwing her head back as he tickles the tip of his tongue along her slit, savouring her leaking nectar. Laughing, he drives his tongue ferociously inside her, stabbing and storming. She can feel his laughter vibrating against her body as she bucks, the dark woods spinning, the night on fire.

Arthur’s warm fingers dive in beside his snaking tongue, hungrily stroking her twat, drenched in her wetness.

“Come for me.”

His voice low and soft.

The fluttering tremors are mounting inside her, flooding sensations that reel and shatter. On the verge of sobbing, Rowena howls out his name, no murmur this time, but a resounding triumphant paean.

“Arthur.”

Echoing through the forest, ringing towards the starry spheres.

Quickly he places his burgeoning prick at her dripping entrance, his manhood pulsing against her tawny bush. For a few thunderous moments, Arthur holds himself there, twitching, seeping milky issue. Then, gradually, deliberately he penetrates her, pushing until just the head of his stiff cock is inside, Rowena’s strong muscles pulsating around him.

Repeatedly Arthur enters and withdraws, fucking her with his moist tip. Descending inch by delicious inch until he is halfway in, surrounded by her hot engorged flesh.

Rowena thrashes and weeps as he thrusts, harder and deeper…….finally ramming fully, furiously inside, wild wanton joy consuming them both.

The centre of her being quavers and fragments……….

“I love you.”

Her voice, high and resolute.

The world ruptures, defying breath, spurning thought………..

And Rowena realises that the exultant screaming, resounding in her ears, issues from her own convulsing throat……..

 

Afterwards, they lay side by side, exhausted, chests heaving. Then Arthur rolls away and sits up. Immediately Rowena’s eyes widen in alarm. “Where are you going?” He smiles wickedly. “Over to the other side of the fire where my sheepskins are of course. It’s definitely time for sleep and I thought……” She wraps her arms around him, pulling him close. “Don’t you dare………after that…….oh Arthur……”

The last thing she is aware of before drifting off into contented oblivion is the steading beating of his heart and his voice softly singing……….something about moonlight and rainbows, about wheeling stars and love……..

 

“So.” Kai looks curiously at Rowena when they arrive home a day later. He certainly knows what it means when a woman glows like that…….and walks oh so carefully like that too. Rather similar to the way Lenni is crabbing about the longhouse this morning – well, what with Llud at Olwen’s and baby Theo’s ability to sleep peacefully though a tempest and an otherwise empty bedroom……..although if Lenni wasn’t mute, her appreciative squealing just might have woken the dead………

“Everything seems to have gone well little brother.” Kai grins devilishly. Pretending not to know what he means, Arthur placidly hands him a sack of salt. “Yes, a very good price for something so precious. We’re well set up for the winter now.”

Thoughtfully Kai swings the sack over his shoulder and walks around to the store hut. It will indeed be winter soon. Already the autumn air is becoming crisper. And although the warmth of spring and summer always arouse ardent appetites, there is something special about this time of the year as well……..with the weather on the turn………..the russet and bronze…….the promise of frost and all those cosy fleeces…..

Not to mention the sight of Arthur’s tight taut arse high in the air, straightening something among the store hut’s rushes……….

“Were you a very imperious master then, little brother?” Arthur looks up and smiles. “Fairly autocratic and of course you were right again my Kai – I think our tableware may be safe for a few weeks now.” Slowly he rises to his feet, provocatively holding Kai’s gaze. “In fact, all this domineering has got me thinking………..(his lips whispering against Kai’s gossamer hair)……. “Perhaps tomorrow we could ride up to one of the shepherd’s huts and………I could be your master for a while.”

Kai feels his knees turning to slush. “You could be Llud, enraged over the theft of a boar………”

“And you could be Rolf, all penitent and contrite”

“I don’t own any purple stockings.”

“But you do own the most beautiful purple shirt ever stitched.”

“True……..alright, beloved, if you promise me one thing.”

“What my heart?”

“That you’ll only use one or two fingers of your mighty silver hand at once ……..otherwise my poor arse just might crack…………”

Leading Llud to wonder exactly why his sons are standing convulsed in uproarious laughter at the store hut door…………and why later at supper, when he mentions that a messenger from Rolf is expected tomorrow, they both splutter their mead into the rushes. Honestly, sometimes they behave exactly like a pair of moonstruck calves…….


End file.
